Thanks b3ta!
After reading and empathising with so many "if only" stories this week I decided to do something about it. So struck up a conversation with a cute girl on the train home tonight and I'm taking her out Friday!
(Mon 22nd Feb 2010, 21:05, More)

As I work in the film industry...
I have a friend, John, who does animatronics. You know, the radio-controlled mechanical puppets they used to use for doing monsters before CGI came along and replaced them all (sorry John!).

Anyhoo a marathon drinking session resulted in the following agreement, sealed by drunken handshake.

If I die before I'm 35 John will rig me up (non-invasively) so that at my funeral I will sit up straight out of my coffin and perform the dance moves to the opening bars of Thriller before disappearing out of sight behind the curtain.

Click 'I like this' if you think I should go through with it. Also click 'I like this' if you think I shouldn't because it'll probably give my dear old dad a heart attack.
(Sat 30th Jan 2010, 10:33, More)

Tantric train trauma
Back when the ex and I were still in the at-it-like-rabbits stage, we'd been out to meet some friends for drinks in Winchester and were on the last train back to her parents' house.

We managed to bag one of those little cubicle things at the front of the carriage and, being rather tipsy, soon got to a little fumbling. Fumbles quickly turned into hardcore depravity, but we both got a little jumpy every time there was a light outside the window in case it was a station platform. We didn't want to treat everyone waiting for the train to a free show, so I suggested we move to my boudoir, or rather the toilets at the other end of the carriage (I'm a hopeless romantic after all).

Giggling like teenagers, we drunkenly negotiated our way back through the main seating area past groups of pissed-up revellers also making their way home. With a salacious word in my love's ear I pulled her inside the toilet cubicle, lifted her pert bottom up onto the little sink, pulled up her skirt and proceeded to thrust away in the inelegant fashion only a pissed Englishman can muster.

Whether it was the clattering of the train on the tracks, or her moans of pleasure I don't know (I like to think the latter), but I didn't hear the toilet door swing open behind us--in my drunken lust I'd forgotten to lock the bloody thing.

In any case I was only alerted to the situation by the sudden chorus of, "Oi Oi! Go on gorgeous!", and, "That's it mate, give it some!", quickly followed by my girlfriend screaming rather loudly in my ear. The entire carriage was getting a great view of my white, spotty arse pounding away at the best bits of my now very flustered girlfriend. I tried, heroically, to carry on (well they'd already seen everything by this point), while reaching behind me to shut the door but the missus was having none of it. With a huff she jumped off the sink, nearly snapping the poor man in two as she did so, and darted into the next carriage, her hands covering her very red face in shame.

Somewhat embarrassed, I zipped myself up and followed her for the now inevitable bollocking to a round of applause from what seemed like every man on the carriage. I restrained myself from turning and taking a little bow.

Not the worst journey ever perhaps, but it traumatised the missus enough for her to ban any kind of public rudey fun for a very long time, which in turn was traumatic for me.
(Thu 29th May 2008, 18:26, More)

Not mine, but true apparently...
When Sony bought Columbia pictures around 1990, a Hollywood suit was showing a Japanese exec around the studio. He was explaining how film production worked, how 90% of Hollywood movies lose money, and thus how the profits from the blockbuster hits are generally just keeping the studio afloat by offsetting the losses from the rest of their output.

The Japanese guy says, "why you not just stop making shit movies?"
(Tue 17th May 2011, 23:38, More)